What really matters
by poutergeist
Summary: Sanji ponders on Zoro's relationship with Kuina and Tashigi and realizes what really mattered. ZOSAN. yaoi or shounen ai :P


**What Really Matters**

The sky was painted an orange red, and the sun was dying beautifully along the horizon. Sanji had finished dinner around dusk and was now sitting alongside the swordsman, chains smoking. The swordsman's brows were knitted tightly, as if he was _thinking. _

The air was thick with tension around the two, as Zoro tried to figure out what the ero-cook was upset about. They had been sitting there for a long time and the cook_ was not _talking_._

"Cook-" The marimo started, but failed to finish when Sanji crushed his cigarette harshly and started walking away. He knew he should be careful when the pervert cook is pissed like that but he couldn't just let him walk away either.

"Oi bastard, what the hell is wrong with you?" He growled at the blond, grabbing his arm trapping him between the rails and his body.

The glare that the blond threw at him froze him in his tracks. Really. What the hell did he do this time?

"Why?" The blond muttered, trying to light a cigarette with his trembling hands. Zoro could only stare at him stupidly, surprised with the vulnerability that shown through the cook's visible eye. This Sanji was unfamiliar to him, the insecurity and doubt that the cook was trying to conceal with feigned anger.

"Why didn't you fight her? She was just a girl!" Sanji exclaimed. Stupid moss-ball bastard getting shot by a woman.

The blond wasn't used to this. He was used to the idiot marimo who treated everyone equally, no matter what gender. He would gladly fight, be it a man or a woman. The cook tried to ignore the cold dread creeping in his gut, that doubt, because he couldn't understand this. He couldn't figure out why the marimo didn't fight that girl, choosing instead to run and get shot in the process. Sanji's mind desperately tried to work overtime trying to find out just what the fuck was so special about her.

Tashigi, the beautiful flower, was attractive and charming. Traits that the marimo never seemed to like in women so why start now? Her curves were in the right place, humble and supple- Sanji paused as he realized thinking of that woman's body did not induce the expected nose bleed. Instead, his stomach was churning uncomfortably and he shifted to avoid the green eyes that were burning into him.

"Because!" The marimo paused, not knowing how to answer it and look like some shitty coward. He took a deep breath and captured the cook's visible eye, before finally confessing to the cook. "Because I'm afraid. I don't want to defeat her and realize that Kuina was right..."

The marimo looked away, off into the distant sky and Sanji resisted the urge to reach out to him. To caress the hopelessness in his voice away and to steal the shadows hiding those deep emerald orbs. He was supposed to be angry damn it. "That doesn't explain anything idiot." But there was nothing harsh in his voice. The cook had said it so quietly it almost sounded gentle.

"That marine… she looked so much like Kuina… And Kuina once told me, that as a girl, her strength would deteriorate naturally and I would defeat her...just because I'm a man. " The blond was painfully aware that Zoro was not telling him everything but, looking at him it was hard to care. Not when all he wanted to do was take the fucking bastard in his arms and comfort him. Comfort _Zoro_. The big muscle head who definitely didn't need any of that.

So he opted for a kiss instead, pulling the marimo roughly and assaulting his lips. The rough lips immediately kissed back and he felt a little ashamed because he knew that nothing even mattered anymore. He didn't even know why he was so jealous but with the marimo's lips on his, everything just flew off into the sea_. Leaving just him, the marimo and that furious kiss. _

Kuina was important he knew, and that marine was special yes. But he was the only one who ever gets to kiss the marimo. He was the one who can taste him and see him writhing and screaming his name in pleasure.

He was the home the swordsman went back to. He was the sheath to that steel and determined existence.

He belonged to the swordsman and the swordsman belonged back to him.

And really, apart from that, nothing else mattered.

Please take the time to critique and comment. That would really help :3

Hope you enjoyed reading~


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